


Pawns

by beetle



Category: Terminator Salvation (2009)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both pawns of fate—of John Connor, not that there's any difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pawns

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Пешки](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300937) by [efinie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/efinie/pseuds/efinie)



> Notes: Takes place during Terminator timeline, with mentions of "Salvation" events and characters. Mentions of major character death.

  
He busts his cherry at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.  
  
  
She's soft in his arms—full of sighs and tiny, needy mewls, and as innocent as the rest of the sheep-people in this time.  
  
  
So he pumps mechanically in and out of her, held and helpless in the tight heat of her cunt. When he can think at all, he thinks it’s weird how he can’t stop fucking her despite the travesty they’re creating.  
  
  
“Came here for you," he pants, truth and lie all rolled into one stuttered exclamation. Then he closes his eyes, and counts the seconds as he waits to shoot his load.  
  
  
(She comes first, all pretty and sweet, clenched around him like maybe she wants to keep him forever.)  
  
  
He thinks he might not be able to get off at all, and that this bullshit will have been for nothing, but then he pretends she’s Marcus, with changeable hazel eyes and a grimace of a smile and he comes  _hard_  . . . Marcus’s name locked behind the prison-bars of his teeth like a promise that never got kept.  
  
  
Tears scald his eyes for the first time since John Connor told him all those years ago, how it will all—no,  _how it all went down_. For the first time since Marcus gave his life to save that fucking bastard, Kyle Reese feels something other than  _dead inside_ , and hollowed out, and damned.  
  
  
He shudders out the last of his climax on her heaving breast, then kisses his way down to her stomach, listening to her giggle and thinking that if he’d met her first, he might have loved her. He wonders if he doesn’t love her, regardless. At least a little. . . .  
  
  
“Damn you to hell, John Connor,” he murmurs to their unborn child, as Sarah strokes his hair.


End file.
